


Shattered

by notimmortal



Series: Shattered [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt Sherlock, John Loves Sherlock, M/M, Magical Realism, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Loves John, not a lot of angst though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 15:43:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6913234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notimmortal/pseuds/notimmortal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Shattering is literally the lowest point in a person's life. When they reach it, they get 1 wish. Sherlock had thought himself to be shattered so many times before. He should've known it would come to this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shattered

Everyone in the world experiences highs and lows. The highest points make you shine the brightest, the lowest points destroy you. But even that's not that bad.

 

Once, in everyone's life time, a person will reach their Shattering. When they reach their Shattering, literally the lowest point that they are capable of going, they will be granted one wish.

 

Sherlock had experienced many points that he figured were his Shattering. When he had his first drug overdose and no one came to grant his wish, he sucked it up and suffered through the crash. When he was in Serbia, being beaten and starved, but no wish granter appeared, he knew that he would have to survive and get better. When he came back from the Fall and had to watch as John married someone else, but still no one came, he knew that there would somehow still be a lower point. By that point, he wasn't sure he could take it.

 

The Shattering was designed to do as the name suggested, shatter the person completely. Make it feel like the mind, body, and soul were being ripped in half. Sherlock was terrified that none of the events he had lived through counted. It felt as if he were destroyed each time. Could he really be taken apart further?

 

It was before boarding the plane for his exile that Sherlock asked the question that had been grating his mind for so long. "Have you been Shattered before, John?"

 

John looked up at Sherlock, coughing in surprise. "Bit not good, Sherlock," John said between his coughs.

 

Sherlock looked down sheepishly. "I apologize."

 

Clearing his throat, John shook his head. "I'm honestly surprised you lasted this long without asking. I have."

 

"When you got shot?" Sherlock asked, figuring himself to be correct.

 

"When you fell," John said, voice like steel. Silence laid heavily between them. "I wished for someone to be there for me. Now look where that got you," John whispered, sadness seeping into his words. It was as if he knew. But there was no way John could’ve known what Sherlock was to face now. There was no way John could know that Sherlock was to die again. That he was fated to stay dead.

 

"You cannot blame your wife for my actions," Sherlock said, although he didn't completely believe it. "Because of them, you and your family are safe." _Because of them, I’ll never see you again. But you’ll be happy and safe and that is all I could ever ask for._

 

John looked at the ground, then back at Sherlock, forcing a smile onto his face. "I guess the game is over, then,” John looked as though there was more he wished to say, but if he did, he said nothing.

 

Sherlock chuckled. "The game is never over," he extended his hand, glove just removed, to John, who took it sadly. "To the best of times, John,” Sherlock wanted nothing more than to pull the man in front of him into his arms, know the feeling one last time, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t do that to John.

 

Sherlock boarded the plane, leaving John behind. He was sure that the moment was now, that he was Shattered beyond repair. He was leaving the man he loved behind again to go to his death. This had to be the lowest he could get.

 

Once again, he was wrong. 5 minutes into his flight, he receives a call from his brother. He was needed. Moriarty was back.

 

Sherlock reached into his pocket, pulling out his prize. Cocaine, a 7 percent solution that Mary had slipped to him when he said goodbye. She managed to get him some before he said goodbye to John as well.

 

It was a bit risky, taking another dosage so quickly after the first, but Sherlock had to do it. He would figure out what happened, write it down for Mycroft, and accept his more than likely death. For John's sake. Sherlock no longer cared if he lived or died. He just wanted John to be safe, and John couldn’t be safe if Sherlock was with him.

 

Despite all of his calculations, thing were just not working in Sherlock's favour on that day. John found him, found his secret. He looked so disappointed, even as he took Sherlock back to Baker Street. Mary, sensing the tension, decided to return to her and John's home, leaving the boys alone to talk.

 

"What," John said, slamming the door. "The HELL WAS THAT, SHERLOCK?"

 

"You'll have to be more specific, John,” Sherlock said, knowing exactly what John meant. He couldn’t meet the doctor’s eyes, casting his gaze to the floor.

 

"On the plane, Sherlock. You overdosed. It seems as if it were on purpose,” John’s voice sounded so broken. It took everything in Sherlock’s power not to look at John. In the end, he failed.

 

"Of course it was on purpose, you actually think I'm capable of an accidental overdose?” Sherlock snapped, eyes meeting John’s. If it was even possible at this point, Sherlock’s heart broke further.

 

"Why?" John asked, voice falling quiet.

 

"Why what?"

 

"Why do you always have to be such a bloody prick? Why do you have to do these awful things?" Before Sherlock could interject, John continued his rant. "Oh I know! It's because you're Sherlock Holmes! And no one and nothing is as important as you are. No one is worth anything, except for you. Everything must stop and wait for you. You don’t care about me, or anyone else for that matter. And guess what, Sherlock? I've had it. I'm done. Good luck with the case, and good riddance," John shouted, walking out the door and slamming it behind him.

 

Sherlock felt his heart crack. It was as if someone had stabbed him, twisting a knife in his sternum. The one thing Sherlock had feared since the start had finally taken place. There was no fixing this. There were no more second chances. John saw what he thought was real, and that was it. It was over. John was never coming back.

 

"Unless you want him to," a voice said from behind Sherlock. He whipped around to see a shimmery lady in front of him.

 

"Lila," the apparition said, holding out her hand for Sherlock to shake. Despite her shimmery, ghost like appearance, the hand was warm and real in Sherlock’s. "I grant the wishes of the Shattered."

 

"I… this is my Shattering?" Sherlock asked, even though he could tell it was true. He had never felt more shattered in his life.

 

"I'm here to grant your wish. What do you wish for?"

 

Sherlock opened his mouth, but couldn't speak. His mind was racing, but it was all the same thing. _JohnJohnJohnJohnHappyJohnHappyEvenIfItsNotMeJohnJohnJohnJohnJustMakeSureHe’sHappyJohnJohnJOHN_

 

Lila smiled at him. "Done," she said, snapping her fingers and showering Sherlock in silver dust. Sherlock didn't understand. He hadn't wished for anything.

 

"Sherlock?" A voice said from behind him once more. It was tentative and quiet, but distinctly John.

 

"John. You... Why are you here? You should be going, I thought you weren't..." Sherlock was becoming increasingly confused. First the wish that didn’t happen, then the John who had returned.

 

John raced forward, wrapping Sherlock in his arms. "Why didn't you ever say anything?" John mumbled into Sherlock’s shoulder.

 

"John, I'm confused. What do you mean? What are you talking about?" Sherlock was sure this was just his mind playing tricks on him. There was no way John was there. But John was warm and solid in his arms. Nothing made sense.

 

Sherlock tried to pull away, but John refused to let him. "I was walking home, still blindingly mad at you. Then, out of nowhere, this lady appeared in front of me and blew some silvery dust onto me. All at once, I... I felt what you felt. I saw everything, from the time before me, to the first case, to know. I knew what you went through, what you did for me. Why you did it for me. And I realized that the feeling you have for me are the ones I've been hiding from you. Everything we've been through, you and me, I... I shouldn't have said what I said. You didn’t do what you did because you didn’t care. You did what you did because you care so much. You… You saved me, and look what I did in return."

 

"You were angry," Sherlock said, resting his chin on John's hair. "I... I had been expecting it for a while. If you can forgive me, then you are most definitely forgiven. But you don't have to forgive me."

 

"Sherlock, you git, of course I forgive you. I love you, Sherlock."

 

Sherlock gasped lightly, pulling John even closer into me. "I love you too."

 

John pulled back, smiling lovingly at Sherlock. "I do have one question, though."

 

"What's that?"

 

"The dust, I recognized it. It’s Shattering dust," Sherlock stiffened. "What did you wish for?"

 

"She asked me what I was wishing for, but all I could think of was you," Sherlock whispered. "I just wanted you to be happy, regardless of how you felt about me. Then you were here," Sherlock felt a line of wet on his face, realizing he was crying. John was too. “But what are we to do, John? You have Mary and the baby and-“

 

"I almost lost you again. I’m not going to go through that anymore,” John said firmly. “Mary Morstan, the woman I loved, doesn’t exist. Sherlock Holmes, the man I love with all my heart, does exist. I’m not leaving you again, Sherlock. Never again.”

 

“Come home?” Sherlock asked softly.

 

“Of course.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated but never required.
> 
> I actually had the idea for this story while I was at Disney world. I was being sprinkled with "Pixie Dust" (literally just silver glitter that got all over everything), and was told to make a wish. The only thing that came to mind was this guy I know, and I was like "What if this was Johnlock?" This was the end result.


End file.
